As Deceptions Go
by luv-draco
Summary: All romance started with something. What did Draco and Ginny's started with? Here's a version of it. And as deceptions go, it could never have stayed long enough not to recognise the forbidden love. Draco and Ginny. Rated for later chapters.
1. Order

A/N- The story starts where the pair- Draco and Ginny- are older. The second part, marked '--------', is in their Hogwarts time. The story takes time in their Hogwarts period until I tell you otherwise. I hope I'm not too confusing.

_Italic- Draco's thought._

He watched her as she descends down the red carpeted stairs. She was smiling generously, nodding politely to guests present. Then, she saw him, and their eyes met. She averted her view and continued down the stairs, avoiding his stare. For the second time in his life, Draco Aldhophus Malfoy felt extremely nervous.

It had been what felt like a lifetime since the last he saw her. Now, when he finally sees her, he can't take his eyes off her.

She was wearing a velvety dark green dress, with silver-do at the outlines. Strapless, it clung like a second skin onto her, flowed softly to the vent at her knee until her ankles. She had done her hair up in an elegant bun and let a few strands framed her face. The diamonds on her neck brought out the sparkles in her eyes. But whatever Ginny wears, Draco had always thought of her as beautiful.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and guests begun to gather around her, greeting her--the ladies trying to mask their green-eyes behind strained smiles, the men giving sly grins and a few wedded ones appreciative nods while eyes traveled up and down her body.

Draco let out a vent of breath he hadn't noticed he had been holding. He wanted to go to her, reach her, snatch her hand from that lout Potter's hand crook--bring her away from these masquerading and manipulating Lords and Ladies but he could only take her if she were his. She could have been his. She should have been his.

-----------------------------

He let out a deliberated low cough, startling the person he'd just caught doing something in the Potions Room, outside whichever common room they were supposed to be in at this hour.

"It's after curfew," he started, stating the obvious. It always worked; intimidation. It made them feel they didn't do exactly anything to be heavily punished, but they would be. _Oh, they will_ he smirked.

"I know," the redhead replied without even bothering to turn around and continued mixing whatever potion she'd been doing. It was obviously a girl, wearing those loose faded jeans and a sky-blue top. Long red hair, let loose, reached her middle back. _It clashes with her hair. _

If he hadn't lived all his life masking his emotion, his eyes would have exactly bulged right now. _Who does the girl think she is?_

"And I suppose with that, you are clear of the... consequences of being caught outside after it?" Maybe a week's detention would do her good, but that depended on how she would try to get away from it. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could get away with just points taken. Fifty, maybe which is being too harsh. Forty-seven points, and that was already considered very generous; he would tell her not to let anyone know about it. She either would take it or leave it with four evenings' detention.

"I have permission to be here," she turned around, "and Snape told me to give you these if you found me." She took out a piece of parchment from her robes, which had been laying on the chair, and handed it to him.

He hesitated at first but took it. _Can't trust strangers_. But with that thought he chuckled inwardly. By the looks of her, a Flobberworm in a heavy barred cage would be more dangerous.

The first letter was from Snape.

_Mr. Malfoy,_

_I suppose when you read this you are in the Potions Room. I do need you to assist the Gryffindor in making a potion._

He smirked at this. So, a Gryffindor, eh? What potion?

_You'll be making the Reticent Potion. All the ingredients that you'll need can be found in the ingredients' closet and the instructions were given to the Gryffindor. She'll inform you about the process of it. _

_Your sharpness in the subject could help in having the concoction finished sooner. You do not need to finish your rounding tonight or any other night until the potion is complete. I had made sure you were to receive this order and oblige it. Refusing will cost you your Quidditch match--every single one of them until the end of term. Now, you would think I'm being forceful, but knowing you, you would do anything in your power to object, once you know who you'll be working with in these few months. Without further ado, Mr. Malfoy, please busy yourself and begin mixing. The sooner you start, the shorter this lasts._

_Professor Severus Snape,_

_Potions Master of Hogwarts,_

_Head of house Slytherin, _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Saying he was furious would be as saying handling Ron Weasley's insufferable temper a day in the sun. How dare him! Why was it Snape was being so forceful? The second letter was still in his left hand. He nearly ripped it apart while trying to open the envelope. They were permission letters.

_Mr. Draco Malfoy has been given permission and access to the Potions Room on whatever hour to fulfill his duty and complete the given order._

_Professor Severus Snape,_

_Potions Master of Hogwarts,_

_Head of house Slytherin, _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Then, the other piece of parchment beneath it.

_Ms. Ginny Weasley has been given permission and access to the Potions Room on whatever hour and will receive assistance from Mr. Draco Malfoy to fulfill the given order._

_Professor Severus Snape,_

_Potions Master of Hogwarts,_

_Head of house Slytherin, _

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

Now he understood why Snape had been so forceful: Ginny Weasley. He was not sure whether to laugh or to cry. He looked up and saw the Weasley girl was trying very hard to keep composure from laughing out loud. He did not care if his face looked like a troll right now; HE WAS OUTRAGED!!!

"So, you think it's REALLY funny, don't you?" he raged. "You think that this-"

"It wasn't my doing. I didn't ask for you nor I did ask for any assistance," she cut him off, while grinning slyly. If he weren't angry enough to feed this Weasel to a hippogriff, he would say that that grin only belonged to the Slytherins, and she would make a proud Salazar with it.

He just stood there and glared at her and she at him with the same animus. Seconds later he said, without taking his eyes off her, that they had better start mixing the potion and she'd better keep away from him because he didn't want to be catching sickness and delaying the end of this 'barely toleration'.

She gave him a grim smile and a, "Fancy this to end soon too."


	2. Potion Problem

"Add this," he shoved the bowl containing the shredded Avendeladora silver wings. "Then wait--don't stir--until it turns to this exact colour." He showed her the dark blue-ish purple paper. "Compare it all the while--can't afford making mistakes--then, at last, stir clockwise fifteen times."

Ginny just grunted. This was the last day to brew the potion. It would be complete and Draco Malfoy had never been more ecstatic. Well, not exactly, as he would miss their fancy fights in front of or with Ron or Harry while they were there with them. But this was what he'd always wanted, was it not? Nothing that had happened between them in the last two months would have made him feel another.

He just let a lazy smile bloom on his face. He had noticed, of course, that of all the nights that they had worked together in this room, she had NEVER once worn a decent girl's clothes. Quote: "I'll bloody wear anything at anytime I want to, and if you want to see a girl in short skirts, this is not the bloody place; go find one of your pets. I'll work in whatever comfortable, and you're really not minding your own business as we agreed." She had said that and glared when he told her to, well he told her more than to, and she could have done with a thorough mouth wash after that. And tonight she wore a short above knee kilt and a tucked-in white shirt and on top of that, an elegant black confetti vest. If he had known better, Ginny was trying to entice him. He grimaced inwardly, like that would ever happen, even if he had wished for it fervently.

He was leaning against one of the tables behind her, distracted. "Look all you want, when you have it," Flint always said. Ginny did have long legs, and he never had any to look at all he wanted. So, naturally, he was looking his fill now. He'd never noticed them before. Of course, Malfoys could never have the time to look at Weasleys, but he did know how to appreciate nice legs when he saw them. Ginny wasn't exactly what you would call beautiful. She was plain--freckled pale skin and subtle cheekbone; masses of red hair, long and curled, neither shiny, nor silky by the looks of it. He couldn't say anything about her body. She was probably thin but other than that was hidden by those awful baggy robes she always wore. And when she took off her robe, yes, baggy school uniform. She hardly showed ANY curve at all. Tonight, without any baggies, he could very well appreciate her legs and curves--seemly she had grown up by the years.

She was working attentively with the potion. "Malfoy," she called, "the colour." He moved forward to stand exactly behind her. His left hand went to put at her side, on the table, and with his right he held the colour paper for her. She stiffened at his close proximity but kept on working. He chuckled inwardly; he always had that effect on females.

At the age of four months to eighteen, he was tall--6ft 2in--and had broad shoulders and a hard chest and abs, with appreciative lean muscles from all the Quidditch training and the swimming in the lake every Friday night (the giant squid hardly a nuisance, it had grown used to Draco's routine a long time ago). His pointed features smoothed to an angular face. His pale skin--of all the time in the dungeons--suited perfectly his white-blond hair, and Draco Malfoy had always been handsome, ever since the first day of his puberty. No details on that, now.

"Malfoy, I am capable of stirring fifteen times, I do not need you breathing down my neck. Do make a move to put at least ten miles distance between us. Your nearness makes my back itch."

He stepped out of his trances hopping. He heard her, but ignored it. When she finished stirring and put out the fire, he voiced, "Why, Weasley, I'm hurt." His feigning of hurt was so good, he himself was almost convinced.

Ginny whipped around--still between him and the table--saw him smirking, and narrowed her eyes. It seemed that Ginny had believed his hurtful tone. _Gullible._

A moment of just air zephyred between them. He was peering into her cognac eyes, and was trying very hard to keep from drowning in them; his body seemed to disoblige in moving away. His body also disobliged when his mind warned it not to lean down. He cursed and swore for the disobedience of his own muscles. A little dip, and his lips was just a mere inch from her enticing ones. She sucked in a breath of anticipation and let it out raggedly. They stayed like that for a while, inhaling mingled breaths.

Ginny made a wild grab at his robe's front, it seemed that she was getting dizzy. That motion pulled Draco to her and their lips met. Draco wove an arm around her as she pulled his front more, and he pressured his lips on hers more. One of her hands went to his neck and held tightly as he let one of his hands run through her hair. _It's silky. _But that was the last thought that came to his mind as Ginny moved her lips under his, trying to let go. He stuck out his tongue and licked her lower lip, teasingly at first. Then, he prodded them to have access to her mouth. He was a bit startled when Ginny pulled away slightly, but then she parted her lips and brought him even closer than before. He spun her around and bent her back on the table and started to invade her mouth thoroughly. She gave a hearty moan and touched his tongue with hers shyly. They were kissing and moaning, utterly distracted and didn't notice when the heavy oak Potions Room door opened.

"Oh my god!" a voice exclaimed. Draco sprung, a little dazzled, and looked around wildly for the source of the sound that had interrupted them. He saw the door was open and made a quick move to it and peered outside. Nobody was there in the hallway.

"Damn it! If I ever get that nosey, I'll peel him limb by limb," he raged. He looked at Ginny, who was smoothing her hair and her clothes. She looked composed enough, regardless of the swollen lips.

"D-Did you see whoever it was?"

"No, apparently he ran too fast. We must have been a real sight," he smirked at this, "to scare him like that." He recklessly added, "or maybe, he just didn't want to see anything that might or might not happen." His smirk deepened even more, if that was possible.

She rolled her eyes. "It is not 'we,' Malfoy. It is YOU, kissing ME. You're the one who had caused them to go running."

"What do you mean it was me who scared that half-wit," he retorted. "He probably ran so fast because he knew if we got him, he'd have been a dead-pie".

"I don't think he ran because he was scared, Mal-foy," she said, impressing the "foy." A_nnoying. _His smirk faltered a little, but he managed a sneer.

"Honestly, Weasley, I personally had seen to it that you weren't capable of thinking just a few moments ago. So, how could you possibly know that?"

She just waved it away like a bugging fly. "Or, that was probably a Gryffindor, who saw us and ran to get my brother," she sighed. "Namely, Harry Potter."

It took him a moment to register what she had said. "Right. It slipped my mind," he shook his head.

"Yes, I'm sure it did." Harry Annoying Potter was supposed to help them bottle the potion and clean the room after everything was done; he'd been given detention by Madam Hooch. She'd said that Potter had been caught doing a none-too-decent raunchy strip tease to someone--probably Granger--in the Quidditch shower room. In a Muggle-fearman suit. Or Draco had thought so. It seemed Potter was really edging from his sanity. _Ah, we would like that very much, wouldn't we? _So now, by chance Scarhead Potter saw them and went to fetch...Ginny's brother. Draco couldn't help himself from asking...

"Which brother?" would-be-innocent words dripping from his lips. "Wouldn't want--how many were there? Twenty? Twenty five?--angry Weasels on me."

She glared at him. "If you really are incapable of simple calculation, Malfoy, all you had to do was ask," she spat and put up her hand and dropped one finger as one counted. "Bill: One. Charlie: Two. Percy: Three. Fred: Four. George: Five. And Ron-"

"Is an oaf." She narrowed her eyes. He ignored it and voiced his thoughts. "Honestly, Weasley. Do you really think I'm interested to know how many Weasleys there are? As far as I'm concerned, as long as the whole million of them stay at least fifty miles away from me, I couldn't care less."

She continued to glare at him and it was giving him a crawling back. "There are six of them. And Ron...is here". Draco turned his head and saw Ron Weasley entering the room. Ron halted a moment, taking in the scene: his little sister and his archenemy not really at a favorable distance from one another. In a glare he gave Draco a promise of excruciating death before he went and started fussing over Ginny. _Like a Mother hen. Mother Weasel actually. _And Potter was seconds behind him, glaring at Draco from Ginny's side.

Draco was so busy fighting a silent eye-to-eye battle with Potter that he didn't notice Ron until he said, "Ginny! Are you alright? Did he leech you?" Hearing this, Draco made an over-dramatic roll of his eyes. Potter seemed a bit smug. _The nerve of that Scar-Headed pillock._ Just because he looked away, and because of the insistence of the matter, didn't mean Potter had it over him.

"I'm fine, Ron."

"Are you sure? He didn't hurt you, did he? Even if he didn't, I'll-"

"For God's sake, Weasley--He-Weasley. She-Weasley here would've been in better condition if you hadn't come in, at the same time polluting the air I'm breathing," he sneered and celebrated inwardly. "Could you skip the, 'Are you okay, Gin-ger malicious bear?' part and start being your oafest, so I would have an excellent reason to _skin_ you? Not that weasels' skin worth much, but it would certainly help your finance" He smirked. Ooh, how he smirked. "Honestly, I don't have all night you know. And any blind person could see that The-Turd-Who-Lived-to-Shag-Mudblood-Granger here can't wait to get back and do the Fearman Suit stripping again."

Draco thought that was, for him, the most satisfying crude remark he had ever thrown at their pretty-ugly faces. Then, what had happened was a blur. Ron started shouting, "Skin me? I'LL SKIN YOU!" and launched himself at Draco. Potter tried to grab Ron and keep him from ripping Draco's skin and tailoring it to be made apparel--literally--and failed to do so, as always. Draco's Seeker reflexes came in handy when he dodged Ron to the side, and Ron went right into the cauldron on the table behind Draco--the Reticent Potion cauldron.

"No!!" Ginny screamed, but nobody took notice of that; the boys were too busy with the little commotion here. Potter tried to punch Draco when Ron didn't manage to. Draco made no effort to move and grabbed the threatening fist and twisted it while tried to crush it in. He turned the twisted hand to Potter's back and gave him a mighty shove with his feet. Potter fell down, knees first, and managed to break the rest of his fall with his hand.

Then, Draco thought that Ron was going to get up and continue attempting to kill him, but Ron just sat there, massaging his potion dripped forehead and muttering incoherently. There was dark blue-purple liquid all over Ron and on the floor, but what was weird was that Ron hadn't made any move to even get up. It seemed that Ron's rage had cooled down, somehow; he was muttering to himself and licking his lips. Draco looked over to Ginny, puzzled for a while as to why she was enraged. Then, of course--two months of waiting en passant for nothing. She was shaking with fury and clenching her fist.

_Wait! Did Weasley--Ron--lick his lips? _This was not good. Ron's sudden change of state was his own fault. Draco wouldn't be blamed for any of it.

"Ron?" Potter called out. Potter knelt down to Ron's side and shook him a little. He finally came to notice that there was something the matter with him. "Ron, are you okay?"

Ginny made a move towards Ron; to smack him, Draco supposed, and on instinct--and curse it--Draco stopped her by grabbing her by the waist. "Let me go, you fool! Let me go! Tipping the cauldron! I'll get him, no good-" Draco shoved into her mouth a candy he produced from his pocket. _That should shut her up for a while._ And it did. Ginny stopped struggling and Draco warily let her go. She glared daggers at him. Draco could see clearly that now he was her aim, so he tried to escape it by doing something decidedly good. He turned to Potter.

"Potter," However reluctant he was to let Ron back to his original state, being as a gentleman, Draco decided to do what seemed the right thing at the moment--escape Ginny's wrath in anyway possible. "Go to the staffroom--try to be as stealthy as you can--and fetch Snape here or any teacher you can find."

"W-Why? Why is he like this?" he shook Ron violently, but Ron just shoved him away, still muttering foolishly. "Ron?"

"Potter, go and do as I say." Draco said. Behind him, Ginny had calmed down and figured what happened to Ron.

"What did you do to him, you ferret-face?!" Potter started toward Draco, but Ginny moved to stand between both of the boys.

"Harry, just do what he says," She ignored his exclaim of a puzzled, "WHY?!" gave him an orderly look, and went over to Ron. By the look on her face, Draco thought she was going to say, "Serves you right, Ron." But she didn't say anything; instead she Accio-ed a towel and began wiping her brother's face.

"Ginny? Ginny, tell me what's going on?" Harry ruffed.

"Potter, are you really slower than a Tortoisirian? Older Weasley here has likely swallowed the potion." Draco saw Potter's face of horror while it sunk in and wished for a Pensieve so he could replay this moment over and over again.

(A/N Tortoisirian comes from the word tortoise)

"Swallowed the p-potion?" Potter squeaked. "The Reticent Potion?"

Draco managed to swallow back a comment that had gone as far as the edge of his tongue on Potter's slowness in catching up events. "Yes, and yes." _Poor Oaf Weasley. _How he managed to feel all glad and gleeful over it, and pity at the same time, he would never know.


	3. Tester Parrot

"If I may ask, Professor, do we get anything out of this?" Draco asked. After the accident with Ron, Ginny had successfully conjured over three-quarters of spilled potion back into the cauldron. The rest of it, well, it was in an unreachable place. "Like extra credits?"

Beside him Ginny nodded slowly. _Surely she thought of this too!! We did work our bottoms off! _Draco didn't know why Ginny had been ordered to make the potion, but Draco--he was compelled to. So, he had to have some sort of reward, for all the work. They didn't tell anyone about Ron of course. If anyone knew about it, he was doomed. His reputation, his position, not to mention what would happen if his father would know. He shivered invisibly. So the two of them --plus Potter-- resolved to find the way out and reverse Ron's condition themselves, since Ron was not talking—literally— and he seemed not to bother at all about his condition.

Ron's state had been worrisome; he was not talking at all, even when exhorted. He seemed to be in his own world, but he treaded through his routine like every typical day, just with a lack of conversation. He didn't talk to anyone, of course, even Potter and Granger, but he did hang about them. Granger was outraged when she found out what happened. She wanted to get a teacher's help, but the repercussions had imposed Ginny and Potter to cast an Obliviate on her. Now, she was satiated with, "Ron had a fight with Ginny. Let him be, Hermione," from Potter. Any argument from Granger, Potter had taken care of.

Ginny had been in the right state, of course. Searching information on the potion and how it worked until late at night. Only, the thing was, she had practically dragooned Draco and Potter to do it too. So, the three of them now memorized other names for the potion, how it would work with different ingredients, the consequences of taking extra doses, warnings of fatal accidents that could occur while concocting the potion, its side effects, its other uses, and the variety of colours of the right concoctions. But NONE of them found out how to reverse the potion's effects.

"Extra credits, Mr. Malfoy? Whoever mentioned extra credits? I certainly did not." Snape's lips tugged upwards. _What is so amusing?_

"No credit! No reward!" If eyes could kill, the squawking green and yellow feathered parrot--perched on Snape's chair--would've been mangled, sterilized, and strangled to death by now. The annoying little creature had been all but likeable. It seemed that the parrot had practically done it all to Snape; Draco was almost convinced that the Potions Professor and the bird had some psychic connection.

"So none of this is for anything?" Draco could tell Ginny was furious. He could SMELL it. Draco heard that the Potion Master had ordered a pet –or more accurate, a tester. But that was yesterday. Surely, deliveries aren't this fast. Anyway, couldn't Snape choose other pet? The bird would live the hell out him, even if the bird would probably die in any time soon. Draco smirked --despite the situation— knowing the sorts of potion that Snape had always been brewing.

"No! Deaf Weasley!" the parrot squawked--again.

"Drop dead, you ugly winged-worm." Usually, Draco would say, "That was childish," but he held nothing towards the bird for not agreeing with Ginny. _That bird is just fecking annoying._

Ignoring the, "Drop! Weasel!" by the bird, Snape said "Now, now, Miss Weasley. It is just a helpless bird," stroking the parrot's feathers none too gently, causing the bird to squeak. "You both did gain a little with having the potion done."

"Which is..." Trying very hard not to pay any heed to the "Blondie! Blondie!" squawk, Draco hoped that whatever answer Snape would give, could let him leave the room, at least satiated. But...

"Mr. Malfoy, you did get to play all your Quidditch matches, didn't you?" All the respect he held for Snape dissolved like a piece of bread in a pool full of vegetarian piranhas. _What the hell?_ "And Miss Weasley, YOU..." he paused dramatically and smirked, "got your punishment."

Ginny was shaking in fury right now. She clenched and unclenched her fist so many times. Draco was not sure why she was so madly raged. Everyone in the school knew by heart how difficult Snape is. She shouldn't take it seriously.

"That was... very generous of you, _Professor," _she spat, "Next time if I would want a _parrot-in-your-face _valedictorian to give me a punishment for showing a proper way to do a simple cleansing spell without having the glass flagon brittle, I would seek you, _Sir._" And with that she made a storming exit, slamming the oak door and left the parrot with its, "Annoy! Red! Weasel!" despite the squeaks.

Draco managed to hex the parrot all the while without Snape noticing. He didn't dare to linger, so he gave a tight self-withdrawing nod to Snape before he ran off after her.

-------------------

He ran from the room and found her walking down the other hall in quite a pace. He jogged stealthily to step beside her.

"So Weasley, care to talk about it?" By the sudden out of place jerk, he assumed that he had shocked the hell out of her. She stopped and turned to glare at him with mentally-killing eyes

"Why are you here, Malfoy?" she hissed. And Draco-- _Don't look at the lips. Don't look at the lips. _Ooh the lips. _Can't get enough of that, can we? **Shut up! **_--wasn't really paying attention. What is wrong with him?

"Why Weasley, can a man display an act of caring?" he asked and continued matter-of-factly, "After all he DID snogged the girl senselessly once". He smirked. It's not that he cared at all. _Another round of kissing would do a better ending for this day._ Draco mentally knocked himself off with suicidal thoughts. _You're disturbed._

Ginny snorted and rolled her eyes. "Like you can care at all. Please, Malfoy, save me from hearing your petty comments. I had enough imbeciles yapping idiotic comments that they don't even understand for the day." She continued to walk, then, before he even had the time to register what she had just say. _Can you concentrate now?! Libidinous Idiot. _

When he finally does, he called, "Weasley! I'm not finished. Come-- Don't you walk--!" He ran off after her. "Do I have to run every bloody time-- I'm talking to you!! Stop, you bint!" He jumped and grabbed her by the waist, causing both of them falling ungraciously onto the stone floor.

"Oof! Gerrof me, Malfoy!" She shouted from under him, shoving away his hands and heavy body away. She got up so fast; it was as if she was just here, then there. "What is the matter with you?" She yelled down at him. He sat up, massaging his head with palm. _Oof, bloody stone floor. Did it have to so damn hard?_

"Can you not shout for once? I'm just bloody here!" _Merlin! If she doesn't shut her trap --the Reticent potion--._ He thought evilly. Then, he look up at her; daring her to speak one more word.

"Just tell me what you want, Malfoy. I'm tired and I want to go to bed," she said exasperatedly. _She meant HER bed._

He opened his mouth to speak, but --_What did he want? --_he questioned himself. _The kissing, you fool! _Oh, right.

Draco really thought that it wasn't appropriate to say for such thing right now. Somehow, he didn't feel like kissing right now. However perverse he had gotten.

"Mr. Malfoy? Miss Weasley?" a deep voice reverberated throughout the hall. The both turned to see Snape pacing towards them. He was eyeing both of them suspiciously. Draco was sitting on the floor and Ginny was looking down at him with her hands on her hips. _Merlin! I wonder how this looks from his point of view. _Draco hastily got up and composed himself to the perfect manner. "Yes, Sir?"

"Why are you not in your common rooms?"

"We are on the way, Sir," Draco answered honestly.

Snape eyed both of them again. There's something about the look that makes Draco uneasy. "If that is true," he paused looking straight into Draco. "I suggest you move faster, before I start to take points away. Go. Now. Both of you." He shooed them.

Ginny started first by going to the end of the hallway and turned left to the marble stairs, while Draco headed right to the dungeon stairs, glancing to his back all the while. _What the hell is the matter with him?_

------------------

The morning after, Snape had called them into a potions class- Gryffindors and Slytherins- just to give Ginny three nights' detention, and Draco was to _help _her; for being unrespectable towards a teacher and for being a nominated know-it-all after Granger, in front of the class. It was a wonder how Ginny could control her temper this time. And of course, he; the Head Boy received no detention. That would scar the position's reputation --and his as it.

Tonight was the last detention night; and Draco and Ginny were sitting in the middle of rusted stacks old trophies and they were supposed to polish them all, without magic of course.

Draco was fervently wishing for peace. "After we snuck him until the Ostracised Oak, we'll leave him there. So, then, the tree could transport him to Yugoslavia," Hearing this, Draco rolled his eyes. Ginny continued, "And naked –-no one will find him or if they do, they won't even bear to look at him and touch him. Then, let us pray that he would get eaten by a Tigger and would be signed in for the first trip to see Hades in the closest ride hour".

"Could you stop it, Weasley? It is getting outrageous," Draco scolded. She's been at it –scheming Snape's payback- for the last hour. She had come up with kinds of atrocious, shameful, relentless ways, but could not set her foot down on one. She kept coming up with new ideas, and some of them really did impress him. _She really would do well in Slytherin._ _But this is ridiculous! _"And the Tiggers are herbivores."

"Malfoy!" She leapt. Seemed she didn't notice him there all along. Then, it looked like a thought came to her, that she gave a malicious upward tug of her lips –and he wanted to know nothing about it. "You're Slytherin. Captain." _Obviously. Is the girl really so slow? _

"That, in Quidditch, I am. What do you have in mind, Weasel?"

"YOU are going to help me to come up with a- a plan," She stuck out both her hands, as if presenting something invisible.

"Absolutely NOT! If you are going to play any this out, you could be most very well plan and do it yourself! "

"Aw, come on, Malfoy. Of course you could come up with an _excellent _idea, with that nature of yours." She, then, took back her hand and gave a sly grin. "You're not telling me that you're just going to let Snape, and that damned parrot, get us. Get you. We have to fight back! Or is it you're scared of the old greasy Potion Professor"

Draco rolled his eyes. Did the girl really think she could play the 'Are you scared' card on him? HE, practically, the one who had invented it. "First, Weasley, I'm not telling you anything. Second, what fight? Snape would be smug for a week, if he knows you're taking him seriously –-I could not ever stand THAT-- and if he finds out you're actually planning on killing –-better yet, humiliating-- him. It is not you who would have the last laugh, Weasel. This, ludicrous, could go on forever. Plus, you're no match for Snape", he paused to think, "I should have told that earlier." He shook his head and sighed.

Ginny just stared a few moments and gave a non-admittance nod. "You were probably in the tiniest bit right"

"I WAS right, Weasley. Do try to rein your temper each time around Snape again, Weasley. You'll get us in trouble faster than lightning."

"I can't help it! He is just so..." she trailed of, finding the right word.

"Immensely annoying belligerent grease-haired fatuous ever immanent?" he suggested.

She looked at him and answered an awed "Yes".

He grabbed a trophy –-Awarded to POLORY JOHNKING for an amazing year he as the boy who excelled in transfiguring water into rum. He had helped save the Halloween Year of 1574- and a piece of cloth, immediately started scrubbing.

Draco really had thought about what happened- almost happened the night in the Potion Room. What was he thinking kissing a Weasley? He came up with kinds of reason, but not one seemed to really put the matter perfectly understandable. He was utterly confused and was utterly angry for it._ Malfoys aren't confused. They always articulate and understand their actions and the repercussions._ He was really disturbed by the always-sudden libido arousal, whenever he got around Ginny. _A kiss. That's all! For god sakes, I didn't even touch her skin._

He was lost in the tiny black dot that seemed would not go away, however hard he scrubbed. He was so deep in thought and wasn't aware of Ginny moved behind him until she took the trophy from him and cast a Rust-Away spell.

"You shouldn't do that, Weasley" He turned and was pretty much aware of her closeness. _Shouldn't do what? The spell or the closeness?_

"And who is going to tell? Hmm? You?" she dared. Draco was unable to reply with her being so close. Moments in the Potion Room came tumbling back to his mind and he prayed that his body would obey him this time. His muscles were really giving a good impression of obedience when Ginny moved closer, and this time he wasn't the one who made the first move.

She pushed him gently on the floor and instantly was on top of him. She held her face enticingly close. Their lips were just merely an inch away and Draco strained his neck a little to capture it...

A low cough interrupted them. "I hate to interrupt this lovely... session," _Damn Filch!!_ Ginny quickly get off of him, patted her skirt a little and nudged him a bit with her feet when he made no move to stand up. "But Professor Snape demands for your presence in his study now", he turned away and said, "Come on along now, sweetheart", to Mrs. Norris. He glared cocked his head over his shoulder and glared down at the now sitting Draco, "Hop, Mr. Malfoy! Didn't you hear me?!"

--------------------

"I'm glad that now, both of you are free of any obligation", Snape was saying. _Obligation. Ha! _"However, I believe, you both owe me an explanation to why the potion is not at the right amount". He stared at the best potions student ever- Draco- then to Ginny; waiting for either one of them to answer.

_Well, you see, Professor, we had an accident where Weasley's brother tried to hit me, but instead he knocked down the cauldron and had swallowed some of the potion. I'm sure it's nothing, I did work my butt off and I AM your favourite student. Punish Weasley if you will._

"You would think that a small partake would have gone unnoticed, and unfortunately for you both it didn't. Would you care to tell me what happened to it?" Snape paused for a moment, deciding what to continue. He looked at Draco from Ginny. "Mr. Malfoy, do you notice how my parrot had been extremely... er... provoking?"

"Er... Yes? Sir". _We hadn't managed to conjure some of it--._

"Sure you do", Then, all superior disappeared, Snape continued in an almost small voice. "I need the potion to shut the parrot. And that small amount does matters",

_Yes, sir. But it wasn't my fault. Weasley tried to tackle me----- WHAT THE HELL?! SHUT THE PARROT?_

"Pardon?" Ginny's mouth was slightly agape. Face turning scarlet, body trembling. "The whole two bloody months was for a— a parrot?!!" Her tone got higher by the words, so she was screaming at the end. Draco frantically looking everywhere for cover, whatever ensues next he was dead sure he didn't want to be part of it.

Ginny was already trembling and clenching her hands. Signs for an outburst. Draco was desperate, he looked everywhere--

"I'LL TELL YOU WHERE THE POTION HAD GONE, YOU-- YOU SLUG!!" Snape raised one eyebrow.


	4. Cures? Complicated?

A/N- Here's the 4th chapter. Took long to update. Sorry! I met some trouble. My former beta reader had been so busy- so she said- and hadn't the free time to beta it. So, this chapter is not beta-ed. Forgive me for mistakes and just ignore them.

"Mr. Weasley, if you understand me, please-- at least—show me any sign that you do". McGonagall was saying, nigh to whine.

Draco was already exasperated. They had been at this for more than two hours. Two flaming Merlin's beard hours. He and Ginny had been called to McGonagall's office earlier to start restoring Ron's original state. Apparently, Snape had told McGonagall, some days before, what happened to Ron, and she had taken over in the curing plan. Well, better McGonagall than Snape.

She was extremely furious when she had known. That wasexpected.So, Draco and Ginny found themselves scrubbing pots and silverwares for the tenth time that week after the two and a half hour lecture; last night. And on second thought, maybe with Snape, they won't get this damned lectures and pots scrubbing everytime Draco brought up about nonsense.

At the moment, McGonagall was trying to put some spell on Ron, andhe wasn't really cooperating.

Draco and Ginny were sitting on a cushion amidst myriads kind of books. While McGonagall trying to sort out Ron's problem, they were supposed to do more researches. _As if I didn't spend every night last week doing this. _Right now, Ginny was the only one who really thought that they hadn't searched the entire library already. Draco was leaning back on his two hands looking at Ron and McGonagall's direction.

"Remind me again, why we should stay?" Draco whispered to Ginny, without even bothered to turn his head to look at her. And she didn't bother to look up to answer him.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ears she said-- "McGonagall said, we could help to--"

"Recognise the source of the problem". He finished it for her, sighing. He saw Ron blinked, and McGonagall breathe a sigh of relief. "Does a blink counts as a gesture?"

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Ginny shrugged. McGonagall straighten her glasses and waved a hand beckoning them. "Alright. Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley. Come over here".

Ginny got up, first, and stretched slightly. They moved around the mass of books there and to where Ron and McGonagall were.

McGonagall turned to them from Ron and begun explaining. "I'm going to put a spell on Mr. Weasley. The spell could tell us any preternatural potions effects. I tried several different spells and I think that this one could work". She paused for a moment to catch her breath and continued, "It is a difficult spell and I could be distracted, so you both have to pay attention to every single detail that changes or movements from Mr. Weasley", she waited for their nods, then conjured the spell clearly. "Poliviar Astroctu".

Draco watched Ron unblinkingly to grope every little detail for awhile. He expected Ron to start gesturing visibly of.. anything, because, hell, he was getting goosebumps seeing Ron stare at him with dead eyes. He averted his view to where he could not meet Ron's eyes. Then, it was getting really boring; staring at Ron's brass cuff, Draco started to count the freckles on Ron's nose and when suddenly, a layer of brick-red mist seemed puffed out of Ron's pores. It stayed for a few seconds and then, he and Ginny kissing in the Potions Room, both of them bending over the table, locked at the mouths, was depicted amidst of red gas.

As the mist clears, he looked at Ginny who had turned red and was looking at the floor and nudging her feet at the stone tiles. _Not what I'd expected at all. But, what was that?_

"That was… interesting", said McGonagall. Draco looked at her, as she lowered her wand. She sat heavily on a chair she conjured and massaging her wrist absentmindedly. "I know what is wrong with him".

Ginny looked up. "You do?"

"Yes, I do. The mist you just saw was a block. A resistance".

Ginny looked taken aback. "A resistance? From what? FOR what?". _Exactly._

McGonagall took a few seconds to answer. "The Reticent Potion had worked by building a sort of block to keep the consumer stays barred from thinking or speaking about other than the block in the first place. While still on the effects, they live by usual routine and orthodoxies. Like a cycle". She paused for a moment to think. "And as you both just saw, I believe you two could guess what Mr. Weasley's block is".

Ginny blushed before asking in an almost timid voice. "While still on the effects—you mean that this-" she gestured a hand to Ron "-will eventually disappear itself?" Ginny was really hoping, Draco could see.

"Eventually, yes. But we do have to smash the resistance for faster and better result. And if we wait longer, I'm afraid that Mr. Weasley's condition could get worse". McGonagall opened a heavy book on her lap (everything seemed to appear by themselves) and was looking through it.

"Worse? How worse? Could it be worse than this?"

McGonagall look up from the book, and seemed trying to recall what Ginny had asked. "Huh? Oh yes. Oh dear. I think the block could subdue but with its dissipation, it will erode his ability with it. It could be anything- his hearing, his sighting, his sanity or maybe his rationality".

"I don't think there is any _rationality_ in him that could be taken away", Draco snickered loudly. Ginny glared at him and McGonagall watched him with bored eyes. _They just can't stand it that I am right._

Ginny rolled her eyes exasperatedly, "So there's no other way, than smashing the block?"

McGonagall shook her head. "I'm afraid, no".

Then, something hit Draco; well, mentally. "Professor, you mentioned that Weasley's block prevents him from speaking about things OTHER than the block? Meaning he could very well had been yapping flippantly at those ponces— I mean his mates about what happened?" He looked at her insistently, demanding quick answers.

McGonagall's lips tugged slightly and she nodded. Oh hell! Draco mentally made a note to start making up excuses immediately. But what excuse can he give? To whom? He could use his dominion on others, but that means only the Slytherins. If his parents know? If _Ginny's_ parents know? He didn't notice he had begun pacing back and forth, while running his hands through his hair. He stilled his legs and looked up. McGonagall and Ginny was looking at him with grim expressions. Well, immediately meant after this, now focus!

"Is putting off this resistance going to be difficult? I mean, really, I have enough of nonsense already". Draco enquired.

"You haveenough— nonsense? Nonsense? You are too right, Mr. Malfoy. These are nonsense. If you had been more sensible, we wouldn't be here. You and Miss Weasley wouldn't be here. None of this would happen. I would have been happily reading books on Troll race, and I swear it is a whole lot cheering than this— nonsense, you say!" She shouted at them. _Here we go again. Troll race again._ He grinned to Ginny and her glare screamed death at him. McGonagall was still shouting at them. "—thinking? Fighting?! In my time, a student – student! Not the _Head Boy_—would have wet himself if he even THINKS of fighting. Ever! And in the Potions Room! Do you know how dangerous……"

Draco swore after this she was going to bring up the Troll race again. "—watching Troll Race than…" He wondered was there ever such thing as Troll race. He imagined the way a Troll wearing a jersey, with a big number twenty-three and a 'Snoopy' above it, on its back. " –I could very well win a fortune against those house elves, if Snoopy wins..." Okay, that was creepy. "—swear I should have asked Dumbledore to…" _Sweet Merlin, forgive for my sins. _"—students acting like Trolls.."

Draco stopped listening and begun dreaming about the Caribbean Islands he went last summer. What was the girl's name? Haley, yes. Magnificent bosom. He didn't notice Ginny was slowly inched closer to him, until her arms brushed his. He looked sideways at her and hidden from McGonagall's view, she pinched his sides very, very painfully. It was all he could do not to yelp.

------------------------------------------------------------

After a good waste of half an hour, McGonagall lecture halted. Draco carefully gather words for not to anger McGonagall again. "Professor, how do we take off the resistance?" Draco asked, ignoring the boring look from McGonagall. He needed to know how to get out this mess. The sooner this ends the better. He was tired of it-- constant lectures,, and constant detentions and constant…Ginny.

Damn it all to hell. She spent the whole time pinching his sides. Letting go only to flex her fingers and finding a new spot to pinch. It was bloody painful. He swore he got good nine red— no, _blue_ spots at his sides.

And damn that skirt and that tight blouse of hers. Why can't she wear something loose and unattractive? She was making life a lot _harder_ for him. Yup, harder. Very much harder. He grimaced inwardly. Why was he thinking about this at the time? Focus, man! But seeing the way she appareled today, he noticed for the first time she got a mole just below her ear. And he found that incredibly… entrancing. He wondered why he didn't notice it………………

_She was wearing that short skirt again. How could he concentrate on living the night out without making any idiotic moves? His trousers were already uncomfortably tight. And the way she sat on the floor, with her long legs stretched out in front of her. _Bloody short skirt!!. _He shifted._

"_Malfoy, I know you love people gawking at you, but I certainly do not appreciate you staring at me". She said without looking up. He jerked invisibly. _Damn!! _"Now would sit down and get back to work! I'm bloody well are not going to do this alone. I separate your part…" She trailed off when he spoke._

"_Whoever was staring, Weasley? I was merely looking at the rusty trophy beside you. It certainly looked much better than you do". He blurted. _Heh, nice save, _Malfoy._ Now, stop getting yourself caught unbelievably stupid situations, moron! _For real, she caught him._

_She looked up, and started smiling slyly. "Really, Malfoy? Can I prove it otherwise?" The predatory look in her eyes made Draco shivered inwardly. By the gleam in her eyes, Draco felt like his feet was rooted to the stone tiles. Then, she stood up and moved closer to Draco and put her small hands on his slightly heaving chest. "Well, Malfoy?"_

"_Um…" He was speechless. What could he say to THAT? Those enticing moving pink lips were just a few inches away. Her scent filled his nose, and his hand was itching to run it through her hair. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. N first, then O. No; tell her that. _But his brain couldn't send impulses to his muscles fast enough. It seemed that they ran out of diesel._

_She grabbed his head almost too roughly and pressed her lips against his. His wide eyes fluttered to close themselves at the sensation. His dangling hands intuitionally circled her waist and pulled her closer. If this was what kissing is like, Draco thought that he had been doing it wrong all along. Words couldn't describe it, but he knew he couldn't get enough of it._

_He started to move his lips, coaxing hers insistently to open. And when they did, he begun to roam to every crevice in her mouth. Tasting her, feeling her. His right hand went to grab her head; positioning it to the right angle. He could feel her hands on his neck and his chest. They were trembling, yet demanding and insistent._

_When she moaned throatily, he couldn't hold back anymore. He was crazed. He pushed her onto the floor none too gently, and was on top of her as if they were never apart. With the new position, Draco felt more dominant. He kissed her fiercely and she responded. Draco's hand traveled from her neck to her side then back up again, kneading gently at the cotton-covered globe of flesh. Ginny turned her mouth away to gasp loudly and her hands clutched Draco's head desperately. Draco busied himself with her delicate skin on her beating pulses. He licked and sucked leaving a red wet love bite. He trailed down to her collar joint and frustrated by the limits the sweater she was wearing gave him; he grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head insistently. _

_Once the sweater gone, he attacked her neck, one hand squeezing her breast. She moaned and gasped and tried to deprive away his clothes. Her hands were shaking and fumbled on his buttons. She gave a violent tug on his third button when it wouldn't cooperate._

_That was when everything came to his mind. Draco stiffened and brace himself on both of his hands; looking down at her. Her lips were red and swollen, her face was flushed, her chest was heaving and she was topless except a thin piece excuse of a bra. She looked up at him— hands still on his unbutton shirt, and for a moment she froze. Then, suddenly her eyes grow wide and scrambled him off her._

Draco fingered his side gingerly— the bloody woman pinched him— and sighed regretfully. The woman was a puzzle. First she despised him as if he has twenty kinds of diseases that contagious, or deadly,or both. Then, she was being all seductive and let him have a tidbit taste of her, but didn't let him anymore after that. Then, she being bloody irritating wearing those clothes. And he knew better that she wanted to tempt him. Then, she was back to being the bloody nuisance. Pinching him as if any was his fault! Flaming air-headed chit. He was going to put the pieces of puzzle together by the end of the year. And he avow on his grandfather's grave, even if it the last he would do. But first, maybe Madam Pomfrey has some ointment for his side.

A/N- So there it is. I'm still trying to improve my writing skills. So I beg you readers to help me do that. Please review!!!


	5. First Step

"Malfoy, would you snap out of it already!!"

"W-What?" Draco blinked blankly. Then, he narrowed his eyes to Ginny. He wasn't fine tugged down to earth rather roughly. _Did she really have to do that?_ He was thinking about her, bugger!

Draco turned to Ginny, raising one eyebrow, enquiring the incongruous timing to bother him.

"You are not paying attention, Malfoy!! This is important!! And you obviously thought-- is some far faraway kingdom's princess is still devoted to you-- less insignificant than this. Well, news flash, they aren't such things as fairies!!" Ginny screamed. She was furious, he could very well see that. But, furious because of what?

_Faraway kingdom's princess was it?_

"You think so highly of yourself, Weasley. I suggest you to not let your hopes up", he stopped himself at her confused "Huh?"

What was he thinking?_ YOU WERE TELLING HER YOU WERE THINKING ABOUT HER, YOU MORON!!_

She waved it away at his silence. "Whatever you were thinking about, spare me from it. I've got other things to attend to". Ginny turned away. Facing McGonagall, who was sitting very comfortably behind her stone desk, with her glasses at the brink of her nose, watching the both of them argue like wedded couple. When Draco, finally, looked at her, she raised one eyebrow and smirked idly. Draco childishly stuck his chin up. Whatever lapses he did, he was STILL a Malfoy. Even though, Malfoys aren't used to lapses.

McGonagall cleared her throat to suppress the overwhelming urge to grin silly. "As I was saying", Ginny looked to Draco and glared accusingly. "One way to smash Mr. Weasley's resistance is to, well, replay that engendered his block". She said this cheerfully and looked up to her students and watched their face as it sinks in.

_Caused the block? That means--._ "I'm sorry?" Ginny croaked out. "B-But the block--is--is, you know, the--the thing in Potions Room".

'The thing in Potions Room', means only one; The Snog. Draco wasn't sure whether he should be ecstatic or disgusted. He had done a lot of thinking about this, hadn't he? He did, and it had been restless and got even more confused each time he tried to bore to the bottom of it. _What was he thinking; kissing a Weasley like that?_ He pondered for the umpteenth time. He tried to convince himself it was just the _moment. _Or it was just mere trifle attraction. Both were the most seemed likely. But he didn't feel right acknowledging either of it. He felt there was something more to it, something unexplainable, something _undeniable._ And right now, Draco was SO confused, he refused to ponder on it any longer, and decided to 'just go with the flow'.

But 'going with the flow', wasn't the problem right now. He could very well 'go with the flow'. Hell! HE always the one who sets the flow. The problem was—Ginny. That was it. Ginny. He was afraid—not-so – that he could not control himself around her, and probably would do something very much idiotic. He was erogenous even by the most innocent gestures; like when she flipped her hair back, made him thought about the last time he ran his hand through it; or when she spread her legs slightly when she wanted to get comfortable sitting, he thought about how those long legs that gripped his hips when he—

He really should cease thinking about this. It was maddening. He refused to lose sanity by mere naughty, torturous, delicious, infatuating and addicting thoughts about her. He swore on his grandfather's stoned-tomb; he would never lose it. But here, he could feel that it was almost out of his grasp. _Maybe the tomb didn't count as holy. But who cares if he was a half-vampire?_

Bringing his attention back to present matters, he listened to Ginny enquiring how would they carry this out.

McGonagall straightened her glasses and shook her head. "I need BOTH of your assent to do this, Miss Weasley. I'm not sure—", she looked to Draco questioningly. "—if Mr. Malfoy would—".

"I'm fine with it", Draco cut in. Ginny looked at him, stunned. He turned to her and sustained the urge to roll his eyes. "What? You didn't really think you could just go kiss YOURSELF to smash Weasley's block, did you?"

"No. It's just—I –Well, I didn't expect you to do this. But, yes, you're apart of this, so—," she spoke hurriedly. He just raised his eyebrows and turned to McGonagall. "So, now you have both of our agreement to do this. Tell me—us your plan".

McGonagall let her elbows on the table, as she leaned forward. She cleared her throat again and fell silent for a while, thinking. Then, she said, "First, the main point of the whole thing is to make sure that Mr. Weasley gets angry when he sees you", she stopped. "He was angry when the block was built, so you have to make him angry, exactly enraged as that day or beyond that, it doesn't matter. This is necessary beca—".

"Wait", Ginny cut in, and McGonagall eyed her questioningly. "If this is just about getting him angry, why can't we use other ways? I mean— there's a LOT of thing we could do to make Ron angry. Malfoy here is one, in fact".

"Do you really believe I hadn't thought about something as simple as that, Miss Weasley?" McGonagall replied, nigh to hissing. "To smash the block, it requires the same exact intensity or more," she paused for a few seconds. "And I am sure that there is no other could cause that as much as what you both did".

"Why, I'm flattered. Don't you, Weasley?" Draco commented. Ginny narrowed her eyes dangerously.

Ginny looked away from him and took a DEEP breath. Draco stirred a bit. "I'm sorry for interrupting, Professor. Please continue".

"Of course I will, Miss Weasley", McGonagall gave a grim smile. "So, in order to make Mr. Weasley EXACTLY raged as he was, we—YOU have to… well you know what you're supposed to do", she paused at this and Draco thought about what would other teachers would say if they know the Deputy Headmistress was—encouraging, or rather ordering a pair of students to snog.

Then, she continued. "I will set a room", Draco raised one eyebrow. "For you both to… start, and I will make sure that Mr. Weasley would… er… _accidentally_ catch you both doing… you know". She nodded inquiringly. They nodded back; gesturing that they understood. "I will be near—er—around to watch for Mr. Weasley".

"Watch him? For what?" Ginny asked.

"Well, I'm not sure how it will turn out. But, if this successes, and Mr. Weasley will return to his old self, I'm sure that he will attack Mr. Malfoy, yes?"

"Right", Ginny nodded an agreement.

And that was how Draco found himself hurrying down the hallway towards the secluded area near the astronomy tower.

Damn! It was cold and he wasn't wearing any robes. He looked down at a piece of paper —contained instructions to get to the meeting room— he had been holding and made sure he had turned at the right left. As he reached the room, on the wall he saw a piece of dark wood very similar color to the background, next to the door. You won't notice it by chances. He put his fingertips on the wood. "The White Ferret". He hissed quietly. _Bloody password. _That was Ginny's doing; insisting a password so that no one else could enter the room, well she got her medicine back; The Scarlet Weasel.

A soft click signaled the door was opened. He went inside quietly, not before looking around to make sure no one was following him, and stepped inside into the —Potions Room? He looked around, the room was EXACTLY as the Potions Room at that day; the smoky cauldron on the first table, the scattered ingredients on the second, his —ROBE?— on the chair at its rear, everything was to the exact detail, the only difference was Ginny fussing with her hair, holding a hand mirror in front of the cauldron.

"Bloody hair. Why—" She saw him entered the room by the reflection, and the mirror disappeared. She inhaled softly before turning around, already red-faced. "Malfoy" She nodded and pointedly looking everywhere BUT him.

"Weasley", he gave her an acknowledgement nod. "What's with all the fuss? Not for me?" He displayed a wry smile.

"You'd wish", but if you'd listened to her, you would think it WAS for him.

"You'd wish that I do", when she blushed redder, if that even possible, told him he had hit the mark squarely. Not bad shooting blindfolded. "Really, Weasley, I come here for one purpose. And that includes snogging you. Of course you have to look good for me, right? Wouldn't want me to feel like kissing a dead tree"

"A dead tree, Malfoy—you conceited git?". She spoke through gritted her teeth. "I'm sure you didn't felt that way last time"

What was with her bringing THAT up?

He was about to say something back at her when the door opened and McGonagall was standing at the doorway.

She saw them and pushed the door back slightly, leaving it ajar. "Mr. Weasley is just around the corner. Well?", she barked. "Quit flirting and start… er… right now!" she scolded mildly. She hurried to the shadows at the back of the room.

Draco turned to Ginny and smirked. They're REALLY going to do this. Draco felt some kind of relief; having to kiss Ginny wasn't a ridiculous thing for the moment. At least, with this he thought he could settle a few puzzle in his head. Some part of him was looking forward to this. That part of him believed that if they try at it again, maybe he could be sure what he was feeling.

Affection? Lust? Love?

On second thought, cross out the love. Even thinking of the _word_ made him nausea. Love is for the Gryffindors gaffe or the fluffy Hufflepuffs. It is not for Slytherins.

But another part of him, the part which before this he thought was sane and right, didn't look forward to any of this, didn't approve to any of this. That same part argued that nobody cares what he was feeling. Nobody cares if he was confused. He is a Malfoy. Petty matters don't appeal to him.

And this part of him did NOT give a good argument.

Lord, he was still bloody confused.

As he moved closer to Ginny, he saw that she was nervous and hesitant. She was biting her lips and tugging her vest. For all it's worth, he wouldn't let her back out of this.

"Having second thoughts, Weasley?" _That would do the trick_. He added, "I thought so".

Ginny stopped tugging her vest and moved closer to him, chins up and eyes flashing. She looked… decided. "Just finding the EXACT spot"

Draco looked around at first checking for petty details of the moment and dipped his head just slightly. But their lips met. All of the never-happened unsure moments in Draco's life, this was the epitome. He gently kissed her, at first. Then, the heat of the moment got higher and he couldn't stop himself from deepening the kiss.

The rush in his head was mind boggling. He pulled Ginny closer for both support and want. And Ginny wasn't complaining at all, well, with her tongue busy, she couldn't flap it much. Not that he wanted her to. Draco felt Ginny tried to turn them around, and on cue he swung around and bent her on the table, ravishing her mouth completely.

He could feel her hands —tingles— everywhere. At least, her hands were not tugging his clothes this time. His right hand was above her head supporting his weight. The hand in her hair went lower, caressing her neck, lower, to her shoulder, lower, to her bust, lower, to her stomach. He stilled his hand by gripping her arse cheek. Not wanting to start anything but just focusing the task at hand.

When she came up for air Draco greeted her neck lovingly. She grabbed his head and fought for air. Her chest was pressed to his every time she took a deep breath. Draco's hand was gripping her so hard he thought it could very well leave marks. His hand was fighting for its own mind to go elsewhere. And when Ginny called Draco softly, he captured her mouth again.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Draco rested his head on her chest, heaving gulps of air. Draco couldn't believe how engrossed they were with each other, that they barely hear the exhaled "Oh!" by possibly McGonagall, or the loud creak of the door heralding Ron's arrival. By the time everything fell back together, Ron's was already sitting on the chair, where Draco's—ROBE?—was lying, and McGonagall was frowning at him.

Draco stood up from the bent position, smoothing his clothes and hair, ready for whatever ensues. But nothing did. Ron only sat there, staring at the wall as if trying to bore a hole through it. Ginny stood also, smoothed her feature and looked at Ron uncertainly.

"Um… Ron?" she called out when Ron made absolutely no sign to move, much less gets angry. Draco thought he would never live the day, where he hopes for Ronald Weasley to run amok. Ron looked at Ginny and stare. She shifted visibly.

"Mr. Weasley?" McGonagall stepped out from the shadows. And as she hurried to Ron's side, he stood up so drastically that everyone froze. But Ron didn't look angry. He looked cold but not with fury. He was still somewhat distant.

And something was… missing.

"Professor?" McGonagall was in the middle of her tracks. Ron was still staring at Ginny. Bloody hell, he was stiff and cold, but not angry. This can't be good, whatever it is. "Professor? Would you do something? He's--he's... Do something!"

"Could you just wait, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall hissed back. _Wait? She wants me to wait?_

"Ron? Are you...um… okay?" Ginny asked. She took a ginger step towards Ron.

And she was replied with just one word. "Ginny". Without any emotion at all.

_Ginny_. _That's it?_ Draco didn't know what to think. There something still missing. The anger. Ron's not angry. What's going on?

But others reaction at that was different. Ginny jumped and hugged her brother. "Oh Ron! You're talking again! Thank God! I was so worried, Ron!"

McGonagall looked grim and unhappy. She looked at Draco with concerned eyes and made a gesture with her hand for him to step back a little. And he obliged.

"Miss Weasley!" She called but Ginny seemed not to hear. "Miss Weasley!!" A little louder. "Miss Weasley!!!"

Ginny let go of her brother and looked at McGonagall. "What?" She asked with obvious irritation in her voice.

"That was not suppose to happen. Please step aside, Miss Weasley"

"What? What wasn't suppose to happen?"

"Mr. Weasley didn't… react"

That was it. He did not react. Draco couldn't believe how disconcerted he was. Ron bloody Weasley didn't react and it bloody scared him. Foolish.

Obviously, McGonagall expected more than "Ginny" as the reaction. Yeah, when Ron'd started beating Draco up, THAT would be the accurate reaction expected.

So if it wasn't right, that means… Bloody hell!

"Didn't react? What do you mean didn't _react_? He spoke, didn't he? He said Ginny!" Ginny turned to Draco. "Malfoy, you heard him. He said Ginny!"

"He said your name, alright. But that wasn't suppose to be the reaction, Weasley." Draco took a step closer at them. "He was suppose to start shouting or chase me all the way around Hogwarts ground to Hogsmeade"

Ginny looked at him like he had two brains and didn't know what to tell, so told nonsense.

"That can NOT really be it! I mean—he spoke!" She was really telling that to herself rather to him.

"I believe Mr. Malfoy is correct. I'm afraid all of that just now, didn't work." She sighed took a step closer to Ron "Miss Weasley, lease step aside. Poliviar Astroctu!"

It took a while for the mist to gust. But this time it was yellow, instead of red.

---  
A/N- There's chapter 5. Guys, please review! I'm so desperate of it! Just tell me if I sucked or did at least an acceptable job. I really really need feedbacks. Please!


	6. Detentions and Demands

A/N- Here's chaptersix. I hope you guys enjoy it. It is beta-ed. Thanks V! You helped a lot!

---

Draco woke up to the disturbing blinding lights of the bright sun the next morning. He put a hand over his eyes to shut the lights away, and attempted to fall back asleep when he noticed his motion made the muscles between his shoulders and his back tighten in a knot.

Needing to clear his head, Draco went out to the lake for a swim last night. But he did it without warming up first, losing track of time he out did himself. He could have drowned if the squid didn't grab him and practically, threw him to the shore. All of that might have caused the sore muscles. Now, he was in bed cursing his predicament.

Today was yet another day and he had to get up. McGonagall had told him under no circumstances that he had to be at her office before breakfast.

McGonagall had made mention that what happened the night before was a waste of time, this left Ginny and Draco a bit confused. They parted, then, still feeling confused as ever, but what made the parting a different was the peck Ginny gave him just before they went their separate ways. That was what made Draco want to clear his head in the first place.

He sat up, rolling his shoulder grimacing when it made his muscles more painful. Rubbing his eyes, he made his way to the bathroom sleepily.

-----------------------------------------

Draco walked down the hallway surreptitiously, careful not to billow his robes too much —it'd make him look like a ponce, wonder why Snape likes to do it so much— and few second-years scurried away at the sight of him, and more of the third-years —female— looked at him with possibly awe and great appreciation.

Thank the heavens that Crabbe and Goyle weren't there. He just could not bare a morning after last night with buffoons. At least there were no Slytherins about to question him where he was last night. Maybe that was a sign for a good day.

He really had forgotten the supposed weekly meeting the Slytherins called last night and every other Thursday. Zabini had been in his room last night, after he got back from the lake, and demanded answers as to where he had been. He had to cancel the meeting with Draco, as the Head, were not there.

_Meeting_. Draco laughed silently. What was so important until they have to call for _meetings_ anyway? Weekly at that! Draco wagered it would have been like every other night. Reports on other Quidditch teams' strategy, latest gossips for the Parkinson's Posse, newest _interesting _spell, and suggestions for the next probable place to hold the Monthly rite.

A black-haired girl – Ravenclaw possibly, by the blue tie—looked at him with dreamy eyes and an auburn-haired next to her was trying to get her attention when, she too, saw him, and a blush crept up her face. The Ravenclaw whisper something to her friend without taking her eyes off him, and they both giggled. Refusing to let anything puzzles him, he continued to McGonagall's office without paying another heed to them, but it left him feeling a bit pleased.

He pushed open the door to McGonagall's office feeling today would possibly be a good day, despite his aching muscles, and saw Ginny, in the arms of a black haired… _Harry sodding Potter._ And they looked like they were having a time playing tonsil hockey. Draco wasn't sure what caused it but the sight of them had boiled the blood in his veins.

The couple broke apart at his entrance. Or rather Ginny pushed Potter away, tried to push, but Potter held a firm grip on her arms.

"Harry! What do you think you are doing?!" She yelped, and then turned to Draco. "Draco! M— M—Malfoy! W-what are you— this isn't what you think. This—"

Pretending as if he wasn't bothered at all by their present antics wasn't easy. He clenched his hand, trying to channel his anger to it.

"I don't care." He cut her babbling sharply. Strangely, it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself, rather to her. Ginny frowned at him; she seemed disappointed. "Pardon for the… _intrusion._" Draco sneered and Potter glared at him.

Draco exited the room and closed—he hoped, he didn't slam— the door behind him. Once outside the room, Draco punched the stone-wall across the door with volcanic rage. He put both of his hands against the wall, and punched it again; just for the principle.

A few students nearby gasped. He turned to them with malicious eyes. The black-haired Ravenclaw and the auburn-hair girl were there, and their blood-stricken faces nearly made him laugh, if he was capable of reigning in his temper. If.

"What are you all looking at? I'm sure you mangy mallards have other petty matters to attend to. Go!" He shouted.

The auburn haired girl took another step toward him, but was stopped when a dark-haired Hufflepuff grabbed her wrist, shook his head, and dragged her away from Draco. The Ravenclaw trailed behind them, giving back glances at Draco. Other students already _fought_ their way away from him.

Draco mustered all his good judgments and forced himself to calm down. He didn't live his entire life to let himself unleash his emotions for the cause of trivial matters. Ire became icy edges. Cool and cold. Repentant at his reddening knuckles, he turned to go, and saw McGonagall _stalking_ towards him. She was obviously surprised when she saw him, and then, recollection dawned on her face.

She made it to the door in a quicker pace and regarded him with a nod. "Mr. Malfoy. What are you doing outside here? Get inside." She said and opened the door, waving her hand gesturing him in. She entered the room, leaving the door open for him, and went to sit behind her desk.

Draco fought for his calmness again when crossing the threshold. He avoided looking at the two Gryffindors in the room. Just by their very presence he could feel hatred, enough for ten men, towards them. Well, not both, just with the one that malformed witless scabby Scarhead.

"Close the door, will you, Mr. Malfoy?"

He closed it and took a good look at the room, since he hadn't when he first came in. Last time he was here was, in his first year, the night that he saw _Norbert _in the Hagrid's house. It didn't changed much, except the Quidditch Cup on its dais behind McGonagall's chair, prevailed other objects and variable ornaments in her office. The stone table was in the centre of the room, with one chair behind it with two in front of it. There were bookshelves from the door curved semi-circle toward the glass window on the wall across the door. A counter with a body of glass —inside, were uncanny looking substances— was at the end of the room. On top of it were The Cup, and other dangerous aspect materials.

Draco patiently sat on one of the chairs in front on the table not saying anything nor looking at anything in particular, just waiting. He kept his silence not wanting to say anything, or rather not wanting to divulge anything. He was rage itself, whatever he wanted to be, convinced otherwise. It didn't matter if Ginny—no, _Weasley_ wanted to kiss other goddamn guys. He didn't bloody care. She wasn't his bloody girlfriend, and wasn't going to bloody be, and for bloody ever.

But who was he trying to fool? He was angry, meaning that he _did_ care, _and_ that bothered. And Gin—Weasley wasn't his girlfriend! Not even friend! Less. _Acknowledgeable other_. Yes, he bloody kissed her once, twice, _thrice_. And, yes, he took off her top once. But she didn't even appear _aware_ that it ever happened. She was a bamboozling riddle and he'll never get to decipher it. How was he going to decipher anything, if he was sitting here and _arguing with himself_?

"Fascinating isn't it, Malfoy? And you only get to dream of _touching_ it," a voice, an utmost undesirable voice, addressed from his left.

Draco didn't realise he was staring at the Quidditch Cup until Potter spoke up. Potter sat on the chair to his left and Gi—Weasley!—on a stool at his (Draco) right. He raised an eyebrow and leaned over to her.

"Why are you sitting here? And not over there?" He kept his voice low enough not to let Potter overhear but intentionally looked pointedly at him. "On his lap?"

When Draco looked at her and saw her blushed, he smirked and gave Potter an aggravating look. He raised his voice just enough, "Not a very good kisser, was he? I expected so." Potter's eyes flash menacingly.

"And I assume that you are, Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall said. She had heard what Draco said and twined her fingers in fronts of her face. Draco smirked earnestly.

"Of course, I am, Professor," he answered smoothly. "Couldn't you tell from the effects I had on _someone _last night? Weasley, I know you could." She blushed again and glared at him.

"Last night? What happened last night, Professor?" Potter scowled.

Draco replied for her. "I believe that it is none of your business, Potter. What are you doing here anyway? Where's Weasley?" When Potter incredulously looked from him to Ginny, he added, "The other Weasley, you dupe."

McGonagall slammed a heavy book on the table and smiled. "Now, now, Mr. Malfoy. There will be no more of name calling right after this very minute." Her false smile dropped instantly. "I want mutual toleration from both of you. If you're going to work together, I believe enmity wouldn't fit it in any form. Cooperation means civility and respect. Do both of you understand me?"

Draco nodded. "Yes, that I do, Professor." _Wait, did she say--_ "By no intents of disrespect, Professor, but what do you mean by _Potter_," he spat the name, "and I have to work together? It was only Weasley all of this time."

McGonagall gave him a glare —which reminds him of an angry cat— formerly before answering. "Before the failure last night, Mr. Malfoy," she said his name with a tone, as if, telling him it was his blunder. "I see no need for Mr. Potter to participate in our attempts to cure Mr. Weasley. And now that we have to use other methods, new approaches, from numerous ways, I will need Mr. Potter's assistance. I think that you, Mr. Malfoy, _kissing_—" She said 'kissing' in a hissing way, "—Miss Weasley already left little impression on Mr. Weasley. Besides, I inferred more hands makes more progresses".

"Or more disaster", Weasley muttered. Draco was about to answer her when Potter suddenly yelped.

"Kissing Ginny?!" He was impetuous. Draco wagered he listened only until the bit where McGonagall said Draco kissed Gi—Weasley. He stood up, screaming at Draco. "Malfoy, you rogue! Wasn't once enough for you to problem us?! And you _have_ to do it again. Why is it this time, huh? Muting me as well?"

Draco only sat back and replied effortlessly in bored tone. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. Everything is not about you."

"Of course not! _Surprisingly_, you decided that it was going to be a fine day to ruin other people's life. 'Oh no, Potter and Weasley are having a good time beating up my sorry arse at Quidditch. I have to get back at them'," he mocked in a girl's voice, "Tell me, Malfoy. Did you really borne this horrendous hostility towards everyone just to ascertain that they know you as a complete condescending snoot that you are, or just to affirm that they know that, at least, you—a _Malfoy_—simply are a corrupted arse?!"

Draco stood up and looked down at Potter. Draco was well a head taller than him and it precisely helped him to advantage; he wanted to _loom_ above him. How dare he speak of matters he doesn't understand? He didn't have _family obligations _set for him right after the minute he was born. He didn't have demands, and high expectations for them to be fulfilled from everyone; his _comrades and household_. He didn't have his future set by neglecting parents who see him no more than the only successor of the third generation of the family tree to _serve_ the Dark Lord. He didn't have to agonize, tortured, every night when a _friend_ discovered 'he wasn't acting like himself'. And most importantly, he didn't have the name _Malfoy_.

If he was raged before, what he felt right now couldn't even compare to that. Contempt wasn't even the word to begin. Even abhorrence wasn't, too.

"I will not warn you for a next time, Potter. Or there will be _no_ next time for you," he set a malicious tone, "Do not talk as if you know me," he paused at looked Potter down his nose. "There's more than just _Malfoy_. I wouldn't reach halfway, if I tell you what comes with the name, before you start to quiver and weep."

"I think I have a few ideas on that. You have been displaying your trait to the core all the time, for all it's worth, and never letting anyone forget it," Potter advanced a scant. "Yes, I do not know you, but I know you enough to have a pretty good picture of whom you really are, _what_ you really are."

"How far do you _really_ know me, Potter? How could you possibly know me? I do not flaunt who I am like you. I do not have a _hideous_ scar to mark me. I do not have 'I am Malfoy' sign on my back. I do not need to parade myself.People _assume_ they know me, Potter," he display the gravest sneer. "One of the things that comes with the name."

"Yeah, and so is the spiteful attitude. And that foul thinking, the horrid belief that you're better than others, and not to mention _that _hideous shade of hair. Speaking of the name, how's daddy doing, Draco?"

Potter was really trying him. It was not really that he cares for his old folk, but Lucius was his father. Draco looks up to him, but despises him. He was egomaniacal and forceful, but he was exemplary, in Draco's notion. He was, what Draco believe, the true meaning of a Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy, was all what Draco wanted to be and not. He wanted to be himself, but to be another Lucius at the same time. He craved for his father being full of pride for him, and that he would suffocate to death as its outcome. And the fact that Potter brought his father up was really beyond the edge…

"He is doing _much_ better than yours, obviously."

"Bastard!" Potter bellowed and fired himself at him. A hard knuckle connected with Draco's left cheek. Then, into his stomach. Draco doubled over. And another punch to his face from below. He could feel his lip split and tasted blood in his mouth. Fortunate that he didn't fell down; he wanted to never look weak in front of anyone. He firmed his foot, stood up erect, and gave Potter a right-hook that impacted below his left/right eye. Potter's glasses dropped to the floor, he stumbled a couple steps backward and grabbed the seat for balance. With or without his glasses, Potter launched at Draco, taking him down with his weight. He started to strike at Draco's face, blindly. Draco parried the next supposed punch and grabbed Potter's collar and rolled him over so he was on top. Potter grasped his left hand, the one seizing his collar, with both hands, trying to pry it off. Draco hauled him to a sitting position and drew back his right hand, ready for the second blow.

"Enough! _Expelliarmus_!" Something struck at Draco and he soared across the room away from Potter. His back connected with the bookshelves and dropped to the floor in a heap.

"Mr. Potter! Stay where you are! _Petrificus Totalus!_ I cannot believe this!" McGonagall shrieked as she lowered her wand. Weasley was pale and looked like she was about to be sick. Potter was on his feet looking at Draco with malevolent eyes. Besides from that, Potter stood impossibly erect, with his hands at his sides, legs closed together, not moving.

"M—Malfoy. A-Are you alright?" Weasley was at his side, suddenly, and besides from the screeching in his ear ("Honestly! What were you thinking?!"), he was glad she was there. She helped him get up, grimacing visibly at his weight. "Come on. Let's get to the chair." She took his arm and put it across her shoulders (he was so much taller than her) and awkwardly tried to walk him to the chair.

Draco snatched his hand back. "I can walk myself, Weasley."

She looked up at him, the corners of her eyes tighten dangerously, and sniffed. "Well, I thought… Never mind. Walk yourself, then."

Meanwhile, McGonagall was still shrieking behind her table. "Fighting! In _my_ office! In _front_ of a teacher! _No _one ever heard of it! I should swap all of your bottoms! Obviously detention isn't enough."

Potter—minus his glasses— already was on the chair Draco formerly sat, free of the Binding spell. Draco was walking to the chair when suddenly something snapped under his feet. Without giving it a glance, he continued to the chair. He sat on it, and couldn't help grimacing visibly when his back gave a brief sting when his muscles contracted.

McGonagall was grumbling, looking at Draco to Potter and Draco again.

"H-Here's your… um… glasses, Harry. Harry?" The pair of spectacle was broken. Potter grabbed at it, a little two inch to its left, before Weasley took his hand and put the smashed glasses in his palm. "Um… Malfoy stepped on it. He didn't do it on purpose, I'm sure. Think so." Weasley was sitting on her stool, beside Potter.

"When do Malfoy ever anything off purpose, Ginny? Never!" Potter insisted.

Draco was about to answer, when he saw McGonagall looked at him; daring him to, and Draco decided against it.

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter—" McGonagall started, "—there is no word could explain how I am feeling right now. No word. I am terribly disappointed in the both of you. Especially you, Mr. Malfoy. You, as the Head Boy, should know better than to display such horrible actions! Fighting! What on Merlin's holy name were you thinking? And you, Mr. Potter! I cannot believe how a student of my own house would act so… despicably! In front of me!" She shook her head for the umpteenth time, as if she would wake from a dreadful dream that way.

"I do not know what punishment that could equate the seriousness of your charge. Both of you will be serving detention—as if you don't have so many at the moment, don't you remember what started this problem? Have either of you gave a moment to think about it?—every evening after your classes ends, starting this evening, until I gave word for you to stop attending it. Shame, the both of you! Did you forget etiquettes? Are you both _not_ learnt manners?" McGonagall glared. She continued with a remorseful tone. "Detention, then you will have dinner. And then, you will come straight to my office. No quick stops! Straight here! If you are late, I _will_ punish you."

"We will have to talk about Mr. Weasley's condition. Or have you forgotten about that too?" At that, McGonagall looked at Potter in a solemn way that would make anybody feel guilty. Even if they didn't do anything wrong. "Be here after dinner, Miss Weasley. You both," she stood up and looked down at the boys, "I hope you are happy with this. What a morning waste! I will inform Mr. Filch of your detentions. You will see him after classes. Leave my office! Now!" She pointed sharply toward the door.

-----------------------------------------

Classes went fine, for a disastrous day. The bell had rung, when they were in McGonagall's office, without him noticing in the morning. He missed breakfast and had to sit through two periods of Care of Magical Creatures, two periods of Astrology and a half an hour of Magical History, with a stomach concert.

At the breaktime, Draco gulped half of his lunch, and packed the rest of it and hurried to the grounds. There was a mountain of homework to finish, and he wouldn't get any time to do it in the night. He chose a shady place under a tree, dropped his burden —his satchel, and the food— conjured a mat and a low table. He started the Astrology theory of Mars's Circulation while chewing an apple with his left hand, when he noticed that Weasley was walking towards him. He bent over his homework pretending he didn't see her.

"Hiya," she sat on the mat next to him.

Draco looked to her, raised an eyebrow and offered the bitten apple, which was in his hand. She shook her head no and leaned to see his homework. "Need any help with that?"

"No." Draco wanted to ask her what was she doing there, but he didn't want to waste time than doing his homework.

Silence stretched when she didn't answer. He continued to do his homework, forgetting her. She moved across him at the table, pulled a parchment from her bag and did her own work. They sat there for the entire lunchbreak, he doing his homework, and Weasley, occasionally, giving answers or corrections for some of his work. The bell rung, Draco gathered his stuff and waited for her to get hers. When Draco turned to go, she called him.

He turned. "Yes?"

"Do you… want to talk, or something? Later?" She was looking at him with a confused _and_ hurt look, somehow.

"Why would I— About what?"

"I don't know. Anything. About what happened this morning."

"I had the feeling it was about that. There's nothing to talk about, Weasley, if it's about this morning." He turned to go, but she walked up and stopped in front of him.

"How about— about us? About, you know, you and me."

"What about us? There's nothing about that too. You, Weasley and, I, Malfoy. Nothing left to it." He stepped aside to go, but she blocked him with that look on her face. What is it with her?

"Don't you—," she took a deep breath before continuing, "Kiss me."

"What…" Draco stared at her, peering into her eyes for any sign of deceit. "…for? What for?"

"I need to know, Dr­a—Malfoy."

"Know what?"

"That is not for you to know. Just do it, Malfoy."

"I don't go and kiss people just for principles, Weasley. Or for _favours._ Tell me, why. Why do want me to kiss you?"

"I told you," she answered. "I need to know."

"You need to know _what_?"

"We're back at the start. Just do it, Malfoy."

"And I told you I don't kiss people--."

"Don't give me that crap, Malfoy."

"I won't if you tell me why."

"You're really giving me craps? I cannot believe this. I'm _asking_ you to kiss me. Is that so hard? It isn't as if you haven't done it before this."

"Asking, hu? How long it will be until you beg?"

"Just do it, Malfoy."

"Why don't you start first? You're the one--,"

"Just do it."

"—who wanted it—,"

"Malfoy."

"Is today not a perfect day?"

"Why are you being such a snoot?"

"I'm a snoot because I won't _kiss_ you? Brilliant logic, Professor. "

"Fine!" She yelled and threw up her hands. "If you are going to be a complete arse about it, then, I take it back," she closed her eyes for a second, "I didn't say anything. You didn't hear anything. We had turned to go and gone. This conversation never took place." She gave him a cold glare before turned to go. He watched her stalk to the castle, but after a few steps she pivoted back and glared, colder than ever, at him.

"You know what? I _don't_ take it back. Kiss me," she pointed a finger downward, "Now." She _demanded_. Draco was shocked. Is this the braveness the Gryffindors always boasting about. It certainly surprised, _amused_, him. But he won't be like Potter. He wasn't that desperate. He won't. So…

Draco dipped his head just enough to left his lips mere inch away from her, hands going up her arms, before…

"No," he said. "I won't."

Weasley gapped open her half-closed eyes, took a step back and looked at him with astonishment. Clearly she expected he would answer-- he would _not_ answer, other than that. "What?"

"I won't kiss you," he answered succinctly. He drew back and smirked. "Now, I am late for my class. You _will_ excuse me."

Draco left her there, disbelief drummed out words in her wake.

---

A/N- You know what to do. Review!


	7. Troubles

Here's chap 7. Im so so sorry it took so long. I've been so so busy, and I'm moving out of the house.. It's very hectic.. This is un-beta... Hope you guys would enjoy it. I'll try to update as soon as I can. Later.

.Draco got to Transfiguration—_Lord, bless me! Don't let class be a bloody killer_—just in time for Zabini, as Draco was sitting down next to him, to hiss in his ear—"Parkinson was looking for you at lunch. She didn't buy the solitude excuse. She bloody screeched in my ears."—and for McGonagall to stride purposefully into the classroom, to the front.

Not so blessed, it appeared for Draco, they were having Transfiguration with the Gryffin-dorks. Draco effortlessly brought attention when he entered the room, especially Potter's, who was as far as he was concerned, a fixed glare could say volumes. Threatening volumes; that is. Potter was sitting at the table next to Draco and Zabini's, and while he was pointedly staring at Draco, Weasley (Ron) was looking to the front, but at nothing in particular. His back was impossibly straight and his eyes were boring, focused but no precision.

When Draco first came in, which, except the Slytherins—they were still chatting, _plotting_, softly among themselves— the class, became hushed. Silent accusations were goaled at him. Draco didn't notice it at first, thinking it was caused probably; McGonagall was marching into the class, but when a trickle feeling scratched his back, he became aware of the charging looks. The air was full of tension, that if indictments were less dilute, none would be able to respire. Looking back from Weasley to the rests of the Gryffindors, the Slytherins were abashed of the episode, which they knew nothing about and didn't care to take heed of it. But now, where oxygen was weaker than the rests of the air-polluting factors, the Slytherins could not help to response to the occurrences. Something was on, and few of them already were jotting down notes, probably to alert others on the Weekly Meeting. They weren't too dense to not be aware, to whom the hatred the Lions channelled to. Slytherins are excellence, particularly in scheming, and eluding, and forestalling.

Draco weren't surprised at all by the episode. The real shocker was that none of the Lions attacked him, yet. Physically, physiologically, mentally, he didn't get any verbal abuses from them. None tried poisoning him, or hexing him. No attempted murder that he know of. No Occlumency tried on him. Not even swearing! None! All the attack he got was the fierce goggling and the fight from this morning, and that was provoked. Are revenges not sweet these days? Is it was not taken seriously by them, the fact that he had, intentionally or no, caused Weasley almost muted? If that were to happen to any of the Slytherin students, none of the causers would stand the abuses from them. Did they really didn't believe of in-house unity? The House is everything.

Making himself care less of the Gryffindors, Draco purposely overlooked the whole thing, and copied Weasley's façade. Draco was succeeding in ignoring the rest of the class, when a bird crane, _magicked_ bird crane, was flapping its paper wing right in front of his nose. He grabbed at it, scrunched it for annoying him, and opened the crumpled paper with exaggerating roughness, that made even McGonagall stared at him. There was nothing there for a second, then, slowly, appeared the line of words of the only sentence on the piece.

_Draco,_ it read.

_Meet me, after dinner, at the third turn from the Venificium Hall._

That was it. No name. No signature. How polite. And this bugger thought Draco was going to take an order from somebody who didn't introduce himself? Draco turned the piece over, searching for any initials, but found none. The paper folded itself to represent a crumpled crane and flew away, with a slightly awkward wing. Draco tried to catch it back, but McGonagall rapped her wand at the table to get everyone's attention. The already quiet class settled down, and Draco's interest left the crane.

"Settle down, please," Draco resisted the urge to snort. "For today's lesson, we will do a rather tricky spell. The Switching Spell, but at a different level. It could switch into anything, as the usual Switching Spell, only at greater distance." McGonagall took out the heavy text of Transfiguration; Seven Years and continued to explain the uses of the spell.

"Alright. Pair up! Choose your partner from the next table." She turned from the class to inspect the large book.

"Excuse me?" Zabini exclaimed, rather loudly and offensive. McGonagall, eyes narrowed, turned with provoked sharpness, with the book in her hands.

"Was I indistinct? I said pair up!" McGonagall replied.

"You said choose a partner from the next table! I would never—" he looked at Potter and Weasley aggravatingly. "—with _those_" he pointed to the duo. Potter only glared at the Zabini, but Weasley walked towards Zabini and pointed to his table; gesturing for Zabini to change place with him.

Zabini, who was oblivious of the accident with the Reticent Potion and the altered Weasley's behaviours, sneered at him. "You're mad, aren't you? I would never work with—what's his name? Pinhead? Pathetic? Ponce? I know it's P-something—over there."

"Orders are orders, Zabini. Go." Weasley replied, gave no sign at all that Zabini had been crude. And he said that with zilch emotion and impossibly flat, it wasn't possible to nudge argument of any sort. Zabini stubbornly stuck his chin up, but moved to other table.

In the meantime, McGonagall was staring at Weasley with incredulous plain on her face. Draco was shocked too. That was the longest sentence that Weasley had ever vocalised since the accident. Was it possible that Weasley was remedied? Had last night achieved something? Looking at Ron's unreadable serene face, it seemed too much too hope for. McGonagall blinked and put the book in her hands gently on the table, gripping the edges a little too long.

The rest of the Gryffindor were watching silently at Weasley, astonished. Draco wagered they had never heard him talk more than Draco did. And the Slytherins kept their false silence-- Zabini would have to atone for his mistake of giving up to a Gryffindor-- rather than meddling with others' business. Grateful for that, Draco elevated his praises to the heavens, Weasley already at Draco's side, readying for to practice the spell. If Weasley, possibly, was cured, he might be rampaging inside, waiting to take it out on someone.

Draco thought of changing partner, but Potter was the only alternative. But he tried his luck. "Weasley, choose someone else to be your partner. There," Draco pointed to the Slytherin sitting behind his place. "You can have him."

Weasley looked at him with empty eyes, and replied, "The order is to choose from the _next_ table." Simple and straight to the point. Draco almost flinched when he didn't receive any remark. He moved a bit to allow Weasley to take his place beside him, and Zabini frowned at him.

When everyone had settled down, McGonagall looked at Weasley a little disturbingly time, then, she gave the word and everyone started to practice the spell.

Transfiguration went fine, despite when Potter _accidentally_ switched Weasley's nose to what resembled a ferret's nose. And somehow, Potter's shoes started to tap on its own accord and Potter did a mad jiggle that nearly waters everybody's eyes. And somehow, Draco's tie did a snake dance and poked him in the eye, which in turn, oddly poked Potter's eyes after that.

After the last class, Draco madly ran to his room to drop his bag and change into more comfortable clothes before going to dinner. On his way out from the common room, Parkinson called him. Draco regarded her not quite friendly and she told him that he better start to treat her _much_ better after this.

"Something gotten up your bottom, Parkinson?"

"No, but I wish it will be you, _Draco darling_," she smiled falsely that made Draco cringe from the horrible sight. "But anyway, would you walk me to dinner, Draco? Hmm? The dungeons are cold tonight."

Draco snorted, crossed his arms and looked at her aggravatingly. What on earth would she want with him? Isn't she being his—Draco doesn't even want to think of the word—in the future, and he would have to see her dogface everyday, is bad enough? And now she wants him to walk her to _dinner_?

"No, Parkinson. I will not walk you. I know you're capable of walking alone. I have stops to do." With that he turned to go, but Parkinson stopped him.

"I know about Weasley, Draco."

"Really? Good for you. It is rather obvious that he changed, isn't it? It would be so not dense of you—" He replied without turning.

"I'm talking about the _girl_ Weasley, Draco."

"Yeah? What's with her?"

"I saw you with her that day, Draco. In the Potions room. I was the one who found you," he could _hear_ her smirking. "And your father knows, Draco."


End file.
